1245/???? WORDS
Skylar Silverwind
There are some things you can only learn in a storm.
HP: 000/000
MP: 000/000
Active Spells: Spell 1 (duration), Spell 2 (x/x posts), Spell 3 (x/x posts)
Cooldown: Spell 1 (x/x posts), Spell 2 (x/x posts), Spell 3 (x/x posts)
Passives/Buffs: Passive 1, Buff 1, Buff 2 (only for those that currently apply)
Items Used: Item 1, Item 2
Monsters Killed: x/x
MP: 000/000
Active Spells: Spell 1 (duration), Spell 2 (x/x posts), Spell 3 (x/x posts)
Cooldown: Spell 1 (x/x posts), Spell 2 (x/x posts), Spell 3 (x/x posts)
Passives/Buffs: Passive 1, Buff 1, Buff 2 (only for those that currently apply)
Items Used: Item 1, Item 2
Monsters Killed: x/x
Far above the exhaust-choked streets of Motor City, a thunderstorm of prodigious size growled and grumbled, dropping sheets of rain and flickering with lightning of various colors. By and large, the residents of Motor City stayed in their homes, only venturing out into the unnatural storm under the cover of umbrellas or heavy raincoats when absolutely necessary. The storm was deemed unnatural for one simple reason - it never moved, and hadn't for almost three days, ever since it had rolled into the skies above the engineering city and settled there like a ponderous stone rolling into place. The storm was, of course, due to the presence of one Skylar Silverwind, the Last Stormcaller, called the Lord of Storms by some who knew of him and his unprecedented control of tempests.
Skylar had blown in with the storm, flying upon its winds as he usually did to cross great distances in short amounts of time. He hadn't intended to stay, only to eat and rest as he continued upon his nomadic journey. But on that first night, he'd seen something that had persuaded him to stay, at least a while longer. As the winds had borne him down to the city, sweeping him along the streets that had emptied of pedestrians as the storm blew in and sent them scuttling indoors to keep themselves dry, he'd caught a glimpse of a small knot of men in hooded black cloaks huddled around the figure of a young woman, her face white and drawn with fear. By the time he'd slowed himself, expending the prodigious momentum afforded him by the stormwinds, and turned back around, the figures were gone, vanished into one of the massive warehouses or garages that formed the bulk of Motor City's outskirts.
Now, two nights later, after careful investigation, Skylar perched atop one of said garages that had been abandoned for several months - up until a small group of dark wizards calling themselves 'the Circle' had moved in, co-opting it as a temporary hideout. The investigation hadn't been terribly difficult, as the so-called Circle were not terribly careful. They moved in small groups of four or five, always in those same black hooded cloaks, terrifying local shopkeepers and business owners but never stealing anything of real value. Several more times, they had accosted citizens of the city, cornering them in dark alleys cluttered with garbage and detritus, but seemed reticent to do anything more than intimidate them. Their whispers amongst themselves, carried to Skylar's ears by the winds, had at last revealed their master plan: They were going to steal some cars. But not just any cars - the famous magic cars of Motor City.
Skylar sighed to himself as the Circle emerged from their hideout in their strength - all twelve of them - and set about with their plan to bust into one of the many car factories of the city and make off with at least six cars. The Stormcaller had barely understood their motivation when he'd first heard it. He had little use for cars when the storms he could call could convey him far faster than any land-based vehicle. He never had to adhere to roads, which invariably curved around obstacles such as mountains and lakes. He could simply fly over them. Even better, once the storm had been formed, only a minor amount of magic was required to keep it moving in the proper direction, even less if he maneuvered it through the complex network of trade winds in the upper sky rather than simply bulled through them. Weather phenomena had their own momentum, and once a storm was set in motion it generally needed only small nudges here and there to keep it on its path. Magic vehicles were getting more and more efficient, but they could not move without draining a constant amount of magic power from the driver, and that amount was almost always higher than what Skylar's method of travel required. Still, he could - after several minutes of rumination - understand that such vehicles were desirable to people who couldn't simply call a storm into being and ride it as he could. Which is to say everyone but him.
The black-cloaked members of the Circle hurried through the streets, hoods up to protect themselves from the rain and the prying eyes of whatever citizens happened to be about, while Skylar trailed them from above and behind, winds conveying him from rooftop to rooftop. It was child's play to keep up with them when he could cut corners that they had to walk around. Finally, after a few minutes, the group stopped in front of one of the large factories, just in front of a massive rolling metal door that closed it off from the outside. The dark wizards conferred for a moment, and then one of them stepped forward and pitched a burst of fire at the door, clearly intending to blast through it. A minor effort of will and a flick of his wrist was enough for Skylar to call forth a swelling of wind and rain that simply swallowed the fire, extinguishing it like a candle. The mage that had tossed the fire looked at their hand in confusion for a moment before throwing an even larger fireball, to similar results. They stepped back and conferred with their peers for a few more moments before another wizard stepped forward and summoned a bolt of lightning to strike the door. Feeling the crackling hum of electricity building as the wizard performed their spell, Skylar grinned and chuckled to himself. It was too easy. The moment the lightning left the wizard's hands, Skylar simply redirected it up into the clouds, which swallowed it with barely a mutter of thunder.
The group huddled together for another conference, clearly at a loss from the abject failure of their magic, while Skylar breezed over to the roof of the factory, anticipating what was going to happen next. And just as he'd predicted, a different mage stepped out of the huddle and marched towards the door, rolling the sleeves of his cloak up as he went. Skylar had seen him in action the day before, and just as happened then, silver light began to grow around his fists, a moderate effort of kinetomancy that would, theoretically, be sufficient to open a hole in the door. The Stormcaller lifted a hand towards the sky, and the clouds responded with a bolt of silver-white lightning that crashed to the ground just in front of the striding wizard, the explosive shockwave of superheated air sending him flying backwards, landing in a skid that carried him across the rain-slick concrete to halt at the feet of his mystified compatriots. Skylar stood on the roof and lifted his arms to the clouds, his head tipping back to feel the wind and the rain on his face as he closed his eyes and reached out to the storm. Lightning began to fall like rain around the group of dark wizards, keeping them pinned in. The lightning mage tried their best to halt the electrical assault, but the power of the Stormcaller simply overrode theirs, leaving them batting at the smoldering cuffs of their cloak. Even before Skylar had obtained the Lacrima that was his father's legacy, storms had been his domain. Only one wizard he'd ever met had been able to contain his power, and she was long, long gone. The so-called Circle were helpless to stop him.
IVYLEAF33